Unpleasant Subconcious
by robot-keayleuu
Summary: Vader describes the feeling of being taken over by darkness whilst inside of Luke's mind


**keayleuu:** 75 minutes for a 1 hour challenge, hum.

AU-ish. Luke is 18 and Vader picked him up before he left Tatooine. (Because just about everything happens there, dammit.)

* * *

He's laying before me, curled into a bundle: exclaiming repeatedly that he doesn't want to go on. He is delicate but I am merciless—I must be merciless because I care. So I kick him, and tell him to concentrate.

We train by the night because the dark of our surroundings act as a placebo to our powers: they fuel the hatred inside of us, encourage and awaken both our darker sides. For me, the process is very effective; I feel the worlds move around me, the intensity of the moons- the darkness of life and the emotional surge that comes with it. In space, it's always dark so I must ensure my student becomes accustomed to this before I proceed to lift him from this planet. I want him to do well—I want him to succeed but before that, he must become accustomed to my ways. It's lucky that I found him before his talents had the opportunity to flourish, but also unfortunate, as he will suffer for his blindness.

I place myself into his mind, and force it to open to me. His resistance is strong but he is untrained and compared to me, he is powerless. I open a connection between us, then I feed him all my dark.

The darkness is like an infection: his body tries to push it away, but I force him to swallow the black. I feel what he feels, and the feeling is rotten; like ants crawling around flowers-pulling at their petals- making black holes in their softness. He hates me, but I don't blame him-deep down, I hate myself, too.

For a moment, I'm not just inside of him-I am him. I am passionate-dedicated to escape-madly in love with the impossible dream of leaving the planet that's held me all my life; saddened by the prospect that escape was so close, but I was captured before I could leave. I'm owned by my desperation—my discomfort is immense and I would accept death if it could make me more comfortable. I am light, I am pure and by having this dark inside of me, I am in pain. I see death in the distance and I welcome its embrace but at the same time I scorn it, because I want to live. I want to fight it away, but I want to embrace it, too. I want to chide myself for what has become of me, that my resistance was so quick to crumble-that I am held within agony-that my life is slipping away before my eyes. I can't make sense of what I am-all I know is that the dark is near, and that I'm scared. I'm losing grip on my senses, but I refuse to give into the dark.

How many years will it take until this pain becomes a regularity? I feel the promised luxury of the dark side and my arteries pump, excited by the disgusting sensation. I lavish in the emotions I'm presented with then immediately pull away. It's difficult to resist but I try, all the same.

I long to rest and question the cruel twin suns as I await their arise. I know that when I see the light the darkness will be banished-will this night never end? I am bitter-without sustenance-but to beg would be to fail. My insides scream to be replenished, but I do not express my pain. I await the morning suns in silence, enduring all that's forced upon me.

Sunrise is near, now- I'll sleep and then tomorrow night, I know we'll begin again. We will do the same thing every night, until there's nothing of my conscious self left. But I will not give in.

I withdraw from the boy's mind and lay him down, softly.

The training wasn't painful—the problem was that it was much too pleasurable. What is the point in fighting when it is easy to surrender-what is the point in struggle when you can rest and be a victim? I know the dark caressed his senses and him-so deprived of care- is particularly vulnerable to it's effects. It's the refusal that pains him and he passes out with the effort, unconscious on the sand.

I've been inside his head—I know he doesn't believe I'm rough with him simply because I don't want him to suffer in long term. His resistance only pains him further- oh, doesn't he realize that he doesn't have a choice? But I've already been inside of his head, so do not need an answer to my own unspoken thought.

He doesn't know of his heritage-doesn't know of his importance. He thinks this torture is for no reason, that I am a stranger in the dark, corrupting him throughout my own malice.

In his sleep, he shivers and I find myself humming to him softly—a broken lullaby sang through bleeding lips, echoing as it leaves through the channel of my respirator. He shivers now but he'll become accustomed to it, soon.

My hand brushes through his hair, and the weight of the all the world's pass over his mind as a caress.


End file.
